


Addict

by pixiefloat117 (hopefulsilence)



Category: Dragon Age (Comics), Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cullen is a damn jerk, F/M, Lyrium Addiction, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 17:19:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5674240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopefulsilence/pseuds/pixiefloat117
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen is addicted; and he has needs. There is no such thing as moderation, only control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Addict

**Author's Note:**

> This is for contritumxleonisx. I hope I did him justice dear. I hope you like it!

_Just one more taste…_ he thought to himself. 

His shaky, clammy hands poured the crimson liquid into the small metal spoon and held it over the small candle flame that he’d lit just minutes before; all the while having a wicked grin plastered onto his sunken features. He watched as it started to bubble and coagulate around the edges and despite the intense heat of the spoon, plopped it onto his dry tongue and let it slide down his barren throat. Within minutes, he felt the effects. Everything was so bright, but it didn’t bother him, not a bit. His ears picked up every sound around him; Leliana’s ravens, Scout Harding talking in the courtyard, the blood pumping in his ears. He could see everything, hear everything, even taste everything.

He left. She went to check on him one night, but he was gone. She scoured the the nearby towns and villages; she even went as far as the Dalish camp in the Exalted Plains. No where. He was just; gone. 

\----------

She awoke in a dank and cold prison cell. She vaguely remembered him coming to her when the night was the darkest in her dreams, like many nights before. Her hands were bound behind an uncomfortable wooden chair as well as her feet to the legs. Her body felt so heavy. What did he do? Where was she?

The faint _crunch_ of bootsteps drew her attention to the cell door. Her bright blue eyes started to burn as she held them open to see who was lurking in the shadows.

“You look just as lovely, even with the mark on your cheek.” his voice cracked. “Does it hurt?” he then asked.

As he stepped forward, she noticed so many new things about him. His posture, usually upright with his back as straight as it could get, was now broken. His skin, which was usually clean and clear of anything just about, was oily and disfigured. His eyelids were tinted with crimson and his usual amber eyes were so dilated that it was almost impossible to see the red hue that colored them and dark rings rimmed the bottom lids making it seem like he had been bruised.

“Cullen…?” she questioned. There was no way it was him. The Inquisition had declared him deceased. He was gone. They found his body. “But you’re…”

“Dead?” he finished. “No. That was some ignorant fool. He got in the way, you see.” Every so often, he would pause and click his tongue; making her jump slightly. She took her eyes off him so he couldn’t see the tears fill them.

“Where are we?” she asked as she tried to keep her voice steady. She watched his feet move forward and circle her like she was his newest prey. 

“Oh, somewhere in Tevinter.” he replied matter-of-factly He almost sounded cocky. “It doesn’t matter where we are. All that matters is that you’re finally here.” Glee seemed to enter his tone.

His footsteps filled the air and her ears rang. She tried not to look at his face for that _thing_ was not Cullen anymore. The small glance that she’d gotten when he entered the cell told her that the man she loved was gone, maybe dead like the ‘ignorant fool’ he passed as him. 

“Do you know how hard it is to be by yourself; away from the one that you love?” he inquired rhetorically. “It is… hard; and I have needs.” he jibed as he took her baby soft chin into his calloused left hand and forced her face toward him. His right hand hovered around his middle before he finally groped himself through his druffalo hide breeches.

As he grew harder and longer, she tried to pull away from his grip only for him to grasp harder while digging his nails into her cheeks. She felt warmth trickle from his grip. She knew it was pointless to try and get away now.

“Cullen, please…” she whispered. His hungry moans was her only answer.

When he was almost at his peak, he untied her feet from the chair and took her to the nearby table and carefully, almost loving in a mocking way, bent her at the waist over it while her hands were still tied above her head. He held her hands there with his left hand while his right slowly reached inside her silk bottoms. She tried to pry herself away from him, but he would only grip tighter and tighter, making his knuckles turn white. A loud _crack!_ finally caused her to keep herself still as pain grew in her wrist all the way to her elbow. She bit her lip to stop herself from making any noise, which only caused it to bleed.

“Now look what you made me do.” he groaned as he freed his hand from her bottoms. He violently turned her frail form over to face him, pushing her spine into the edge of the table. “What should I do now?” he asked no one. When he noticed the trail of crimson from her lip, he messily wiped it away saying; “Can’t have that staining the table now can we?” he mocked.

Silence filled the cell before either of them made a noise or moved. The pain that she felt in her wrist was nothing to what she felt in her heart. Sure, this was the physical body of Cullen; the man she loved, the man she wanted to marry; but mentally, it was a monster. The Cullen that she knew was gone; dead. When she first saw him, she didn’t accept it. Now she did.

Suddenly, her face was being pushed into the stone flooring and he had his other arm around her waist to keep her rear raised. She felt him rip her bottoms off and throw them somewhere. Once she accepted what was happening, she didn’t fight. Fighting only caused her more harm. If she kept fighting, she was afraid of what he would do. His fingers gingerly caressed her folds, making her inwardly cringe. A throaty chuckle escaped his chapped and barren lips before he painfully plunged them inside which made her gasp. The next thing she knew, his thumb was lightly rubbing against her sex and she fought back the moans that threatened to escape. She wasn’t getting pleasure out of this and she didn’t want to make him think she was. She felt the stinging of tears and did all she could to stop them from cascading downward, but with her cheeks being scraped against the rough stones and the physical body of the man that she loved violate her in ways that she knew the real him would never do, she couldn’t hold them in.

He quickly removed his fingers and angrily shoved his shaft inside her which made her lightly scream with her mouth closed. As he pumped himself in and out, quickly getting faster and harder, she clenched her good hand into a tight fist, making her nails dig into her palm. After a moment, she felt one of his hands reach through her night shirt to grab one of her breast and finger her nipple. 

He was progressively more violent with his thrusts until he let out a low and long growl. Then he peeled himself away from her and let her fall to the cold and wet ground. Still on her stomach, she watched him as he quickly composed himself, pull up his breeches and kick her over to her back. Just from that small motion, she felt her ribs crack and soon it became hard to breathe. He clicked his tongue a few more times before squatting down to clear stray hairs from her face.

“That was almost too good.” he mocked. Anger welled up inside her and with as much energy as she could put forth, she spit in his face, which made her ribs scream and her chest catch on fire. He blindly swung out at her; his hand connecting with her lower jaw and driving her chin into the stone beneath it. Her mouth instantly filled with blood and seeped through her closed lips. 

“Listen here _elf_ , I make the rules. You listen to me. I own you.” he spat, malice filling his tone. She turned her gaze away from him, her jaw feeling like it was on fire.

\----------

Minutes turned into hours and hours turned into days before he came back. Each time he returned, he was more violent and more gone. His eyes would be redder, his skin, more translucent. She concluded rather quickly that there was only one way to get the Cullen she loved back. She had to get a plan ready.

He would bring her hard bread and dirty water occasionally. She guessed that he needed to keep his toy alive before he was completely through with it. Broken but alive. She would watch as he removed a dagger from his belt and cut the bread roughly and _politely_ shove it into her mouth and force her to eat. If he wasn’t forcing the bread down, she wouldn’t have been eating. She refused to talk despite his many attempts at ‘small talk’ and she never made eye contact with him which only made him mad. Sometimes he would take her in any way that he felt, other times he would hit her just to make himself feel better. She could only imagine what she looked like.

\----------

“Here, elf.” he raged one late night as he tossed a large bundle of fabric her. The lyrium was still fresh in his system and he was ready to move. “That spy sent her birds.”

A small spark of hope blossomed in her heart. “Leliana…” she whispered. Unfortunately, he heard her. He drew his hand across her face so fast that she didn’t have time to blink. He grasped her around the neck even quicker.

“I never said you could speak.” he dictated as he pushed her violently into a nearby wall, making her head connect with it. She felt a small trickle of blood trail down through her matted hair. Her vision was too bright, even in the dimly lit cell, and blurry when she opened her eyes. “You only speak when I give you permission!” he roared, dribbles of spit hitting her in various places on her sunken face. 

He held her there for a moment as he, more or less, admired her decrepit body. She was small to begin with, but now her body seemed like a child’s. Her ribs, broken and bruised, showed through the thin fabric of the shirt that he had so ‘mercifully’ given her. Her arms and legs were more like the fancy fountain pen tips that nobles in Orlais wrote their important documents with. Her face, sunken and blue, looked like it would break if one were to look at her too long. Her body was so frail, so broken, so _abused_ that one would think she was a ghost

With his palm still pressed against her neck, he began to rub himself on the outside of his breeches. Her eyes stung with tears, but she knew there was only one way to save him. She knew, from many innocent intimate moments back at Skyhold, he kept a small dagger on his belt. She saw it as he tossed the large fabric at her earlier. She tried her hardest to act like she was going to go along with him as she reached into the opening of his overcoat with her good hand. 

With her broken wrist on his back and just barely managing to snag his small blade, she swiftly stabbed him on his side. She quickly retracted it and held onto the handle tightly as anger filled his features and he tightened his grip on her neck and threw her across the cell, her body cracking and breaking more as she came to a sudden stop in a crumpled heap on the ground. 

Blood bled into the white undershirt as he walked slowly to her small form. “Was that necessary?” he miffed as he clicked his tongue after every work. 

She watched him advance in horror; unable to do anything to really defend herself. Here was the body of the man that she loved closing in on her like she was his next meal. He was hyped up on lyrium making him stronger and more prone to undeniable rage. Once he was close enough, he lunged at her, closing his huge hands into bricks and hitting her in numerous places. She tried to hold up her arms in defense, but he broke through everything. 

Like a beacon of light from a lighthouse, she saw an opening. The only way to get him to stop was to use his dagger again. When he raised his arms for a final bash to her head, she quickly shoved the blade into the middle of his torso. His eyes went wide as his arms fell to the hilt sticking out of him and he fell to his knees. She looked on as he fell to his side; the side that she’d struck not too long ago, and he stilled.

Silence. It was deafening. She brought her hands up to her ears to cover them, but nothing stopped the earsplitting sound from corrupting her.

“Ellana…?” a weak voice suddenly rang out in the resonance. She gasped which only sent fire through her entire body. “... I’m sorry,” it voiced. She mulled up all her remaining strength to crawl her way to his dilapidated body.

“Cullen?” she whispered. She managed to let herself hover above him without touching him. He put his rough hand against her cheek lovingly.

She noticed that the faint red glow from the lyrium was gone from his eyes leaving his usual, but beautiful, amber orbs. The Cullen that she loved had returned. He looked over her body the best he could.

“I’m sorry I hurt you…” he started. “I’m sorry I-” He was cut short as he winced involuntarily. “I’m sorry I did this. It was the…;” He took a gulp of air before he continued. “lyrium. Please know…” She could tell that it was getting harder for him to speak. “I love… you.” And his eyes closed for the final time.

More silence. Now even the Cullen she loved was gone. She was so tired that she didn’t even have enough energy to cry. She was just; numb. She put her head down on his chest; something she’d done many times in another life.

\----------

“Safe and solid, protecting and proud. He feels like quiet, stronger when you hold him.” a cryptic voice rang out bringing her out of her daze. She moved her eyes to the opening of the cell to see the large hat that she’d associated with Cole. “He hated it.”

More figures appeared in the darkness behind him. She knew it was her friends, that they’d finally come to claim her, but she didn’t want to go with them. Cullen was right here. This is where she wanted to be.

“Andraste’s sweet tits, what happened?” Varric questioned as he peered around the room.

She could only imagine what it looked like. She was laying on a dead body, more or less nude, bruised and broken, in a cell. It hurt her head too much to think about anything so she just watched people’s shoes move around her. At some point, Cole had picked up the large bundle of fabric that Cullen had thrown at her earlier and covered her up with it so she would feel less exposed.

“Come here Boss.” The Iron Bull commented pushing his way through the small opening of the cell. He bent down to pick up her frail and broken form like a sleeping child. She looked up at him, silently thanking him, and slowly closed her eyes. 

Now, it was her turn to rest; she knew her body needed it. She could get the proper care she needed back at Skyhold. Right now, she wanted to forget everything that had happened. She wanted to remember the Cullen she loved. She wanted to keep thinking that he had died long before this happened. To her, he did.

**Author's Note:**

> DID YOU ENJOY JERK CULLEN!? SEE WHAT YOU MADE ME DO! *cries big manly tears*


End file.
